Quarry
by yume girl 91
Summary: She was his prey...nothing more. So how did she become the object of his desire? Au UlquiRuki. Happy Halloween! R&R!


Quarry

He would never forget the first moment he laid eyes on her.

Pale-cheeked beside the ravaged body of her Uncle, the last male in descent and she, alone and shivering beneath the flickering, wavering light of the candle flame, a revolver held at her side and a single shot of silver within it.

He observed her trembling lips and shaking hands, the muzzle rising with a gleam of wicked penitence assured in the dark gray metal. "Vampire…" she hissed, her slender finger curving around the tiny trigger. He took a step and then another until the round chamber was pressed against his chest. Piteously he stared down at her with eyes that burned with unholy light in a face of white pallor.

"Can you not do it, girl?" he asked softly, his voice of velvet above a near whisper. The girl stared with a mixture of loathing and fear but was silent. He was amused. "Can you not speak more? The last of the proud Noble Kuchiki line? Or is it…that you are afraid of me?" he stroked one long finger down the side of her face feeling her shudder in revulsion.

He would not kill her then.

He would wait…

…Time passes…

She grew into the woman her mother once was. Radiant with an inner fire that few ever knew the true cause of burned from the inside out lending her face an almost ethereal fey beauty.

It was revenge that drew her to linger in the gardens alone in the deepest part of the night, the ancient revolver secreted away in her person every night she stood beneath the great Maple listening to the owl's lonely cries.

She knew he was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

To exact the final measure of revenge promised over a century ago.

I will…

Two souls. One locked in forever night, the other released in the light of day made the same silent vow witnessed by the moon and her luminescent shadow.

Destroy you…

…It comes…

It is nearing her twenty-fifth year. The hour draws near like a moth fluttering beside the seductive yellow glow of a flame. He knows and also prepares. Waiting almost with impatience weighing his countenance. It is almost frightful this strange exultation that possesses him. It is merely a meeting of two enemies with the fate of each other's death in the balance.

He must kill her.

Her blood must stain his hands.

Then he can rest.

…

She clutches the heavy weapon to her bosom, her eyes closing once over the memories of those slain in the past. She must not fail. For them to rest…

There is a soundless current, a change in the still air.

Her eyes open.

He is here.

It is the same. The girl of twelve stands in place of the embittered woman who lost all her kin early in life. The dried husks of fallen autumn leaves are the crimson flow of her Uncle's blood staining the ground.

He stands for a moment regarding the scene through slitted eyes then slowly his forked devil's tongue slithers out and treks past the points of tiny diamond tips peeking past his upper lip. He bows imperiously, "Lady Kuchiki."

It is divergence.

She withdraws the slender weapon from the folds of her cloak, raising it elegantly in her hands. He nods and understands there is no need for words.

They circle another.

He a mere stain of darkness blacker than the night clasps her throat in a speed of inhuman approach. It is beyond him that her cries are silent, her struggle only in that of pulling the trigger back. They both fall, collapsing onto the cold ground.

Blood pours from the single hole of where the bullet has found its mark.

He hears her ragged intake of breaths, choking harshly on the thick fluid burbling past her lips. Her hands rise and cradle the long tears that have rent her flesh.

He has slit her throat.

They shall die together.

He studied her palely beautiful face and laid his hand on her cheek.

The ones in the past that had succumbed to him, all left a child.

An heir to carry on the name and the vendetta…she has left none.

He wondered why.

…

Her last gesture is to reach for him, the bitterness gone from her eyes.

…

In the fading twilight of the dying night he understands without words.

It is because of the single burning thread of hatred inside her. It consumed her until nothing was left only a doll without emotion, unable to love save for her enemy.

He understands.

Because it had become the same for him…

…

In a whisper meant for no ones' ears, the anguish of two intertwined souls is said.

They have filled their part in this world.

His hand in hers becomes dust as it was meant to be.

Forever.

~Fin~

AN: Don't own Bleach. Happy Halloween!

_.^._

(-.-) (Me in a witch hat) ;) Thanks for reading—reviews—not flames are appreciated.


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